


Every Thought a Memory

by hungrytiger



Series: A Rose Bloomed [11]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied Underage, Mind Meld, Team 10, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungrytiger/pseuds/hungrytiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We remember things imperfectly. Not her though. Never her. Shikamaru gets a mission. Ino gets a mission too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Thought a Memory

A person's sensory memory is only about twenty seconds long. Then, if remembered at all, sensations are shunted further into the brain in fractured parts. We remember things imperfectly, Ino repeated the chasim to herself. Still, Ino was sure she would remember this, down to the day, the hour, the instant it happened. Nine days after her father begins teaching her the more advanced and subtle clan techniques, seven days after staying late at practice at her genin instructor's request, six days after the meeting he'd arranged for her to have with Kurenai-sensei, which began with, "You are well-looking, Ino-kun, maybe beautiful. That is good. It is a weapon you must always use."

People remember the meaning, not the words when they talk. They remember the action, not the movements they take to accomplish an act. These are the exact words her father started his lecture with nine days ago. Her father said it, so it must be true, but- No. Her father may not have meant to tell her a lie but he wasn't telling her the truth either, she's sure of it. These days there's no snatchs of conversation missing, like her brain was a radio with bad reception. These days she is sure all her memories are fully intact. Kurenai-sensei's hands had been surprisingly soft when they took her chin and tipped back her head to inspect her teeth, the pads of her thumbs gentle when they brushed across her eyelashes. No part of her was unseen that day, and that is good because it is clear she will need every part of herself honed to do -

Ino sighed. She needed to Not. Think. About. It. Her stomach was already tying up in knots again, and her father had been on the watch for days now, trying to see if she would crack under pressure. He needed her to be okay, if he was going to continue the clan technique lessons. Kurenai-sensei had cautioned she must make sure he didn't stop.

"Inoichi-san is a man, after all. You must learn to fool men; practice on your father. You need these mind tricks. He knows that. Not knowing them won't stop those types of missions from coming."

She wasn't really able to play the part of daughter well enough these days though, so she had escaped to the greenhouse where, cold and muddy as it was, she could at least be assured she could be alone.

Pulling back a stray piece of hair with muddy fingers she looked back at herself in the warped reflection of the glass. She was pretty Kurenai-sensei had said she was maybe-No that wasn't right. "Possibly beautiful." Those were the exact words she'd said. Exact words; exact memories. Other memories, older ones, were not so precise, but even so Ino was pretty sure she's never been called that before. Not directly anyway. She knew she was good-looking, of course. Her father was hansome and she looked just like him. People had commented "What a pretty smile, what a pretty pair of eyes." As if her pretty face, her pretty pair of eyes, her too-small breasts, her scarred chin, her small nose… as if all these things together added up into- Possibly Beautiful. And how she wants to be all of that. Pretty enough for- not Sasuke, not anymore, but for someone to see, for her father to praise, for Sakura to come back to her, groveling for all her secrets. There were things she'd change of course- things she already was changing as Kurenai had advised her on the uses of make-up, but-

The light from behind flickered and her face in the reflection warped and disappeared as a shadow crept across the window pane.

Then the shadow in the glass spoke, "Admiring yourself? How novel for you, Ino."

Whipping around, she found Shikamaru's slumped form in the doorway. Despite what he'd just said, Shikamaru wasn't looking at her. He was looking around at the crowded tables before moving back towards the bench in the far corner. The tables were so tightly packed in that he had to turn sideways to make his way through them.

"You need to stop putting things in here so close together. I can hardly move," he complained. The bench was full and he looked at it in dismay, before finally reaching down to move the pots sitting there. He'd have to move them back before going; the only free floor space to set them on was the aisle he'd just walked through.

"I didn't move them," she said, glancing back to give the window reflection one last look. The Ino she also saw in the window didn't look so pretty again, not Possibly Beautiful at all. She looked thirteen and awkward. Ino turned away, moving through the aisles far more easily than her father –or, now, Shikamaru -could ever manage.

"You've just grown, is all."

She stared down at the pots in her way, and back at Shikamaru who wasn't looking at her.

"I can't get a good look at the clouds."

Ino felt a tick of a smile. It had seemed strange to smile much these past few weeks.

Should she tell him, she wondered. But it seemed so awkward to start, standing so far apart like this. Her toe pushed at the nearest pot, and it scraped against the hard cement floor. But there was nowhere else to put them. She had to stay where she was.

"It's not raining; you could watch the clouds anywhere outside."

"Everywhere's still wet from this morning though. And besides…"

And besides, she thought, with sudden understanding, Chouji was away at physical rehabilitation. Even as her mind takes her miles away to the cramped room where Shinobi have their rehab, her eyes tracked Shikamaru's hand movement. Sometimes the amount of detail there was to take in made her naeousous.

"Nevermind," he exhaled, and Ino wondered what he'd been about to say. They stare at each other for a moment and then-

"Tsunade-sa-"

They both spoke at the same time, both paused and then then both tried to speak again, still saying the same thing. Ino noted that his fingers twitch oddly more than she notices his blush. Look at the details of memory, Ino, her father had told her, You'll easily recall the predictable. It's the little things that will make any manufactured memory more real.

He waved her off.

"Got something to tell me?" His grin was wry. She wondered suddenly what he thought of her too-small breasts. Somehow telling him about Kurenai's examination of her would lay her too bare.

"My father is teaching me some new techniques," she offered lamely, her arm giving a half-heart gesture. He waited a moment for more because, of course her father is teaching her new techniques.

"Tsunade-sama gave me another mission." And then it was her turn to wait for more.

"I-," he licked his lips. Look behind him; notice more. What's there, her father's voice echoed in her head. Shikamaru continued, "Leading a mission. Such a drag."

For a moment everything else fades away as she concentrated solely on that in a way she hadn't done in nine (or was it eight, suddenly she was having a hard time remembering) days.

But then she does remember. Shikamaru didn't take her on the last mission he led either.

"Oh, well," She flung her hair back over her shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't be on the team you're putting together anyway. I'm getting ready to go on a big mission myself."

Shikamaru's eyes narrow.

"I just wanted to let you kno-"

"Shikamaru," she cut him off. She tried to reach out, but he was too far away. Her hand brushed only air and her own side. My father is teaching me ways to make myself part of other people's memories so I can pretend to be their childhood friend, so they can remember fucking me, or yelling at me, or torturing me. Anyway they can best believe theyc an let their mouth run. She swallowed and held her tongue. He looked at her- a look she couldn't read- but that flinty look in his eyes was gone. Bravado rarely fooled anyone who really knew her, but it had been worth a try.

I think I'll remember this moment forever, she thought, even as twenty seconds passed and still details were gone from her mind.

"Are you scared? About- well, it's the first since…then."

"No," his voice was flat. He could have been lying; he could have been truthful.

"Its just something with some Sand nin. Joint thing. Shouldn't be too troublesome."

There's a smudge of mud under his right eye, and the nail on his right thumb was chipped and he had on that shirt she hated. Remember all that, she commanded herself, and then smiled. Remember how his hand was twitching, how he was too distracted to see her rightly just then. That's okay.

"So this is good-bye then?"

He smiled at her. " for a bit."

"Ah," she nodded her head, and even though together it still took them a few minutes to move all the pots back to the bench, and several more to manuver the narrow greenhouse aisles, they say nothing more to each other, their hands moving close, but never quite in snyc.

Then he left her behind, only her and her reflection in the greenhouse again.

**Author's Note:**

> Though not in the same 'verse, the idea of Ino using her clan speciality is further explored in my story "Perfect in Memory" and that story's remix, "Perfect in Memory (The Keep Your Friends Closer Remix)" by wei. Both stories are on AO3.


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